In the shadows, she discerned the slender young girl who had broken into the house last night. On a crude bed, an older woman huddled under a blanket.
The girl rushed to Diego, murmuring anxiously in Spanish. Diego answered in a calmer, soothing tone. Annie understood only scraps of the conversation as he reassured the girl that Annie would help and could be trusted.
The emotional scene gripped Annie for a moment. Two women, alone in a foreign country—one of them ill, the other very frightened—forced to depend on and trust absolute strangers. What were they doing here? Why were they leaving their homes? Why were they alone? Where was their family? Were there no men in the traveling party? Where were they going? What were their names?
So many questions ran through her mind, but Annie knew she had to deny this natural curiosity. It was dangerous to know too much. She would do whatever she could to assist them and then send them on their way.
She approached the bed. The woman lay with her eyes closed, clutching her cover. Annie recognized the blanket as one of Diego's. "What's wrong with her?" she asked the girl.
"A fever, I think. She is very hot. She cries out in her sleep."
Tentatively, Annie touched the woman's forehead. "Feels like she has a fever, all right. Where does she hurt?" Annie figured the elderly woman could have the flu or even pneumonia, especially living in an exposed environment like this.
"She injured her leg a few weeks ago. She's been sick ever since."
"Her leg? How bad is it? Can I see the injury?" So that was the reason the girl was after the alcohol last night. Annie gently lifted the blanket and gazed intently at the ugly gash above the woman's ankle. Her whole leg was swollen and obviously badly infected.
"She cut it on a fence," the girl said simply.
Annie didn't ask how. She could imagine these two crawling under barbed wire, and it touched her heart to think about it. "I would recommend that she see a doctor. This is beyond my knowledge and my medicine chest."
"Oh, no!" The girl wrung her hands. "We cannot be seen! We were warned not to do anything like that."
Annie's tone changed. "Listen, she needs antibiotics, stronger medicine than what I have." Annie shook her head and looked at the woman, who shivered beneath the thin blanket.
"Please, can't you do something? Diego said you would."
"Oh, he did?" She looked accusingly at the old man, then back at the girl, her thin shoulders draped in the elegantly fringed rebozo. The beautiful garment, as well as the women, looked terribly out of place in the shabby surroundings of the mission ruins.
Diego spoke hesitantly. "I know I should have asked you first, Annie."
"You're damn right!" Annie's frustration spilled over as anger, and she lashed out at Diego, then at the girl. "What do you expect from me? This... this is illegal! And you! You're breaking the law by slipping into this country and hiding out on my property. You ... we all could be caught!"
At Annie's tirade, the girl edged closer to the bed. "We did not mean to cause trouble for you."
"Good. Because I have no intention of getting mixed up with you. It's too dangerous."
"Yes, I know." The girl looked down at the dirt floor.
Annie's gaze followed. The girl's sandals were mere scraps of leather. Her feet were bare and dirty. Taking a deep breath, she fortified herself for a stronger defense.
"Did you also know that the county sheriff owns the ranch next door? And his son who lives there right now is on leave from the FBI? That's like—" Annie gestured in frustration. "Bigger than the border patrol. What would have happened to you if you'd hidden on his property? And tried to steal from him? And what if he'd found you instead of us?"
"He would probably send us back." The girl lifted her chin. "To our certain death."
"Oh," Annie scoffed, shaking her head. "Don't be so dramatic." She didn't want to believe that these women were fleeing for their lives.
"It is true," the girl said soberly. "Please, can't you help us? And we will be on our way. Just a little help?"
The word help hung in Annie's mind. When she had needed help during the frost, her friends had been there or sent food. Even Brett, who hardly knew her, had given his able assistance. She was grateful to them all. Now, here were these women, all alone, with no one to help them but her.
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Annie's thoughts raced as she tried to figure what to do about the women and their problem. First things first. The older woman needed the professional medical care of a doctor. Annie couldn't bear to send them on their way in this condition. "All right, I'll help. But you must do exactly as I say."
"Yes, yes! Anything!"
"The main point is, don't get caught." Annie couldn't believe what she was saying. As a more reasonable thought, she added, "And as soon as she's able, you go. Understand?"
The girl nodded solemnly.
"I'll be back in a little while." Annie walked to the door, then paused and turned around. She didn't know why she asked, but it just seemed the natural thing to do. "What are your names?"
"I am Carmen Garcia." The girl said with a proud lilt to her voice. "And this is my mother-in-law, Isabel."
Annie bit her lower lip. That was a mistake, she concluded immediately. I shouldn't have asked their names. Now they weren't nameless beings, belonging somewhere else. They were individuals—Carmen and Isabel—and they were in big trouble. They had a story, and families who were probably worried about them, probably wondering where they were right now. Carmen looked too young to be married, she thought, and then wondered what catastrophe had caused her to be traveling with her mother-in-law.
Again Annie caught herself. Those things didn't matter. Those things were not her concern.
"Okay, Carmen," she said in an officious, clipped tone. "I'll be back as soon as I make some arrangements." Annie walked away rapidly. Every answer brought more questions. And she didn't want to think about them.
That afternoon, Annie pulled her truck to a stop beside the back door of a small white frame building on the edge of town. She gave her two passengers an encouraging smile. "It's going to be all right. Dr. Theresa will take care of Isabel and keep your secret." It had taken several phone calls for Annie to discover a physician who could be trusted.
Dr. Theresa Hidalgo came highly recommended. She and her husband, Tate, operated a pharmacy and country grocery store next to a small clinic. The store served as a gathering place for many in the Hispanic community of Silver Creek.
Annie and Carmen practically carried Isabel up the steps and into the building. Then Annie waited in the truck alone, hoping no one would see her, and worrying more than she should about Isabel's welfare.
Just as she was beginning to think that she would survive her illicit journey undetected, she heard the sound of boots grinding against gravel as someone walked toward the truck.
She looked around in time to see Brett Meyer heading straight for her. Many anxious thoughts passed through her brain, most of them centered on how to flee.
But, no. She couldn't do that. She had to face him, calmly of course, even though guilt was probably written all over her face.
So she waited for him, painting a little smile on her face, hoping she looked calm. And praying that Carmen and Isabel wouldn't come out of that back door while Brett was here.
In an inspired move, she switched on the radio. Country music blared from the speaker and helped set the casual mood she wanted to portray. She rolled the window down. "Hey, Brett! Fancy seeing you here, of all places." He looked devastating in a gray suede jacket and tight gray cords. And those boots—still shiny black.
Annie realized that she was probably way too impressed by the sight of a well-dressed man. But around here she saw so few.
"I could say the same, Annie. How are you feeling?"
"Why, I'm fine."
"Is your foot bothering you?"
"My foot?" She stared at him blankly.
"The one that you cut last nig
ht."
"Oh. That one." Annie realized instantly that she had let her perfect excuse for seeing the doctor—her cut foot—slip away. She felt silly forgetting about it, but she'd had more to think about today than her own minor injury. "It's much better, thanks."
He nodded, taking a quick assessment of her. "Then you aren't sick?"
It was a ridiculous conversation, traveling in circles. He obviously wanted to know why she was here. She, in turn, was trying not to tell him. But she had to tell him something.
"I brought one of my, uh, workers, to see the doctor," Annie said simply.
"I thought it was too early to hire migrants."
"It is, generally, but, a, uh, couple came through asking for jobs. I figured that they could help Diego with some chores around the farm." She brightened and decided to turn the questioning toward him. "How about you, Brett? Did our all-night vigil to save the apple blossoms cause a relapse?"
Brett scoffed. "Not at all. That wasn't anything, compared to some of my exploits."
"That's right. I forget you're the local hero who's had lots of excitement."
"Hero?" Brett looked away and stuck his hands into his jacket pockets in frustration. "Come on, now, Annie. This hero stuff is embarrassing. I'm just an ordinary guy, stopping by to visit some old friends."
Ordinary? She thought. Hardly! "Old friends?"
"The Hidalgos."
"The Hidalgos are old friends?" She shouldn't be too surprised. The Hispanic couple was only a few years older than she. And Brett, she guessed, was about their age.
"Yeah, Tate and Theresa are friends from school days. Tate and I went to the New Mexico Military Institute. And I was best man at their wedding."
"I didn't realize..." Annie's anxiety level rose several notches. Now she had to worry that the so-called trustworthy Dr. Theresa might tell her old buddy about the women that Annie brought in today.
"I also wanted to warn them about the increased number of illegals in the area. Everyone knows they go to Theresa when they're sick."
Annie blinked. Everyone? She hadn't known until she asked around. But then, dealing with illegals wasn't her normal activity. "Are you asking Dr. Theresa to report them?"
Brett shuffled his feet. "No. I feel that kind of pressure would be an unfair imposition on our friendship. Theresa has to live with herself on that issue."
Annie breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe this tough law and order man did have a tiny core of humanity, after all. "Yes, I suppose so." She wondered if she could live with herself. Then she thought of the pitiful sight of Isabel on that ragged bed today and knew she could not have lived with herself if she'd turned her back on the women.
"Believe it or not, the local sheriff's department is concerned about more than the individual who tries to slip into this country illegally. Many of these people are being mistreated by transporters."
"We've had those problems for years, Brett."
"Yes, but it's intensified this spring. Dad and his deputies found a truckload of them the other night. They'd been locked up for hours and hadn't eaten in several days. One elderly man had to be hospitalized with a bad heart. The others had to be treated for dehydration."
"Are they all right?"
"Yeah. We were lucky. But who knows how many more are hiding?"
Annie shook her head as if she'd never heard of such a thing and glanced anxiously at the office's back door. She prayed they wouldn't come out yet.
"Between cutting your foot and this worker getting sick, I'll bet you haven't done much around the farm today."
"Not much."
"So, could you use some help?"
"Well, sure. I guess. But you don't have to do that, Brett."
"I'd like to."
"It's too late to get anything done today. Maybe another time."
"Tomorrow, then. Tonight I'll bring supper, and we can talk. Catch up on old times. Okay?"
"Well..." It sounded appealing, if only she didn't have these women to hide. "I—"
"You aren't expecting company, are you?" His dark eyes explored her face.
"No, of course not." If he only knew the kind of company she had, he would be shocked. But how could she refuse this dark-eyed, handsome man? "Come on over."
He grinned. "Now that's more like it, Annie Clayton. I'll see you later." Turning away, he walked back in the direction from which he'd come.
She felt a quickening of anticipation at the thought of spending time with Brett this evening. But she couldn't help being torn between wanting him to come over and the awful responsibility she felt for the women. What if he should catch them? What lame excuse would she give? What would he do if he discovered the truth?
She had a pretty good idea. Brett was law and order; she was a softie. He was a tough ex-FBI agent; she was a simple apple farmer who couldn't forget the two women cast by fate into her care and, unfortunately, couldn't turn her back on their plea for help.
Finally the back door of the doctor's office opened, and Dr. Theresa motioned to Annie. She bounded up the steps and entered the tiny back room. Isabel lay on a small bed with Carmen holding her hand.
Annie's glance went from Isabel to Dr. Theresa. She felt more anxious than she had realized. "How is she?"
"I've given her an antibiotic and a tetanus shot. Her daughter-in-law has instructions on how to care for the wound. She needs rest and care. She's malnourished, dehydrated and near exhaustion."
"But she's going to be okay?"
"Yes, in time."
Annie frowned and lowered her voice. "How long before she can leave? I mean, go away."
"Not for a while. She's very ill, Annie. I need to run some more tests on her in a few days when she feels better. But an initial screening showed very high blood sugar."
"Which means?"
"She may be a diabetic. That's probably why the leg wouldn't heal and why this journey has been so hard on her. She has to take better care of herself."
"Or we do." Annie sighed, not fully aware that she was taking the responsibility for Isabel's well-being. "So what do you suggest?"
"Can you... will you be able to do what's necessary to take care of her for a little while?"
Annie looked at the two women, and then nodded at Dr. Theresa. "Of course."
"If not, maybe I can find someone else...."
"How long are we talking here, Doctor?"
"A few weeks."
Annie's face registered her feelings of dismay. She was hoping to get rid of them tomorrow. "Weeks," she said slowly.
"Are you okay with this, Annie?" Dr. Theresa asked. "You seem uncomfortable."
"Can you blame me?"
"Not at all. It isn't something most of us plan on doing. But—" Dr. Theresa's gaze went to Isabel for a brief glance. "Taking care of people is what I do. I don't care what country they're from."
"We'll do okay," Annie decided quickly. "If anyone asks, I'll just say they're migrant workers. Anyway, I feel responsible. They were on my property. They found me. I'll keep them until—" Annie shook her head and stuffed her hands into her jacket pockets. "I've never done anything like this before, Dr. Theresa. I don't know how to go about it. I want to help them. I feel so badly for them, for their situation. Yet I must admit to some guilt that I'm committing a crime, too."
Dr. Theresa patted her arm. "You do what your conscience tells you is right. No one can pass judgment on that. I certainly won't."
Annie sighed heavily. "Right now, my conscience says to take them home and feed them."
"Mine says the same thing." Dr. Theresa smiled gently. "Now, I'd like to see Isabel in a few days to run a glucose tolerance, which is a series of blood tests over a three-hour period. Here are instructions for the test. I'll see her sooner if she doesn't show improvement. Give me a call any time."
"Okay."
"Just take it a day at a time, Annie. If it's too much for you, call me."
"Thanks." Annie turned to her charges. "Okay, Carmen, Isabel, vamonos. Let's go. We
have lots to do." And in the back of her mind she was thinking that Brett would be over soon for supper. Now how was she going to juggle them all and keep them apart?
When she explained Isabel's condition to Diego, he insisted that they move into his room in the shed. He would gladly sleep in the barn, he said, where the migrants usually slept. Annie agreed that the women could not continue to live in the ruins, yet they had to remain hidden. Maybe Diego's room was the safest place, after all.
Annie had barely gotten the women settled in their new place when Brett's Mercedes pulled into her driveway. Before heading out to meet him, Annie pulled Diego aside. "Now, listen to me, Diego. Brett Meyer's here, and he's going to stay for dinner. You must make sure those women keep out of sight. I'll put food on a tray on the porch for all of you in a little while. You just quietly slip up there and get it. Okay?"
"Sí, seňorita," he said, reverting to the familiar Spanish.
Annie smoothed her sweater and jeans before walking over to greet Brett. She figured her brain must not have been working when she talked to him this afternoon. Why had she agreed for him to come over tonight? But when she saw him again, she knew. He was just too damned irresistible. George Clooney with a full lower lip. So kissable.
"Hope you're hungry for barbeque chicken," he said when she drew close, lifting the take-out box for her view.
"Sounds great. I'm hungry for anything." She fell into step with him, suddenly elated that he had insisted on coming. "Starved, in fact. I don't think I've taken time to eat all day."
Under The Desert Moon (Desert Sky Series Book 2) Page 5
